


Lessons Learned

by aschicca



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Eddie obliges, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Richie needs some lovin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aschicca/pseuds/aschicca
Summary: Richie learned from a very early age that people are not likely to take notice of you unless you make them, and that includes the ones who are supposed to love you no matter what.During the course of his life, Richie learned many lessons the hard way. In the end, Eddie teaches him the best one.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	Lessons Learned

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because my beloved Beta, Piksa, dared me to try and write something where things don't take five centuries to get resolved... lol! It still took me longer than I'd anticipated so maybe it's just me ;)
> 
> All remaining mistakes are mine. I hope you will enjoy this one, I have to say I loved writing it.

Richie learned from a very early age that people are not likely to take notice of you unless you make them, and that includes the ones who are supposed to love you no matter what. 

He was five years old the first time he made his mother laugh so hard she had to step away from the stove and lean against the wall. Eyes sparkling with mirth, she placed a hand on her chest and let out a silvery, amused laugh. The way she was looking down at Richie made him feel, maybe for the first time, like he was worth something in her eyes, and from that day forward he never stopped trying to elicit the same reaction in her. His efforts weren’t always successful, and more often than not his incessant chattering and relentless stream of jokes had him sent to his room and even yelled at. Still, on some occasion, Richie’s mom laughed, shaking her head and offering all her attention for one precious moment, and that was well worth his failures.

Of course, failing did not mean you stopped trying – especially when you knew how good the reward would feel when your efforts finally panned out – and so Richie pushed down the pain he felt when his mom rolled her eyes, sighed, and told him to, “Please, Richie, just stop talking! You’re giving me a headache!” He pretended that a small piece of his heart didn’t break when his dad, who sometimes giggled when Richie spoke in one of his silly Voices, instead sent him to his room without dinner when, in his words, he went “too far, Richie! You do not make an impression of the cashier when we’re paying for our groceries! That is just plain rude.”

Pain, heartbreak, loneliness, they all went away when he finally succeeded and won the laugh he so desperately craved, and with it the attention of the people he loved.

*

Richie was six years old and playing with his best friend, Stan, when two other boys asked if they could join them. Richie knew one of them: Bill Denbrough. They weren’t friends exactly but Richie always thought Bill was cool. The other boy said his name was Eddie and that he wasn’t going to touch Richie’s construction blocks because, “My mommy says I can’t touch toys other boys play with. You don’t know how to properly clean them and you leave them lying around in the _dirt_ , and do you have any idea how many germs can live on those things? I’m not doing it! Also you’re all sitting on the _ground_! It’s unsan… unsanny… unsanit… Not clean!”

When both Stan and Bill tried to explain to Eddie that, by refusing to sit down and build something, he was basically refusing to play with them, Eddie’s lower lip started wobbling and his eyes filled with tears. 

Richie gasped. Rejection was something Richie felt very familiar with, and he had no intention of letting someone else feel its burn.

“You can supervise!” Richie yelled, startling Eddie. “That works, right? You don’t have to sit down or touch the blocks. You can just stand there and tell me what to do. Come on, boss! What are we building today?”

Eddie beamed down at Richie, nodded, and immediately started to order him around. The whole affair ended up with them arguing the entire time and, after Richie pretended to be particularly dense and not understand what Eddie wanted him to do, Eddie finally crouched down, grabbed a few blocks, and built the thing himself, causing Richie to whoop and Stan and Bill to share an amused laugh.

That day, Richie learned another valuable lesson. There was only one thing better than making someone laugh: Sharing that laugh. Plus, for some reason, Eddie’s attention felt even more precious to Richie than his mom’s.

*

Richie was thirteen years old and Summer was over. The school year would start soon and, despite the fact that school was never fun, nothing could be worse than killing a demon clown. 1989 would forever be the year when Summer turned out to be worse than math tests, cold mornings, and long afternoons wasted studying.

On their last day of freedom, the Losers hung out in the clubhouse. It wasn’t all of them, unfortunately. Beverly had already left for Portland, and she’d promised to call and write but, as of now, she hadn’t. Bill and Ben were there but they weren’t much company; both of them moped around because of the lack of news from Beverly, and no amount of jokes could lift their spirits. Stan was spending time at his uncle’s house and couldn’t (or maybe he wouldn’t?) join them, and Mike had to leave early because his grandfather wanted him home. 

When Bill and Ben also left, Richie found himself alone with Eddie.

“This sucks,” Eddie sighed, sitting on the swing.

Richie threw away his comic book, rolled on his side in the hammock, and looked at his friend. “What does, Spagheds?”

“Ugh, Richie, can you not?”

“Not what?”

“My name is Eddie,” he glared.

“I know, that’s what I said. Spaghetti.”

“Richie, for fuck’s sake!”

Richie laughed. “Okay! Calm down, tiger. Tell me what you were moaning about before.”

“It’s just… Doesn’t it feel like we’re falling apart? Beverly’s gone and she’s not bothering with us anymore. Stan would rather let his dad drag him to his uncle’s house than hang with us. Bill and Ben… well…”

“What? Sit around with moony eyes, sighing, and talking about nothing but Beverly’s hair, and her eyes, and her lovely, lovely voice?” Richie pretended to gag.

Eddie giggled. “Yeah, that. You know I think Mike pretended his grandfather wanted him home early and just left not to listen to those two anymore.”

“Can you blame him?”

Eddie shook his head, still grinning. Richie grinned back, happy to see his friend looking a little more upbeat. When Eddie’s face fell again, Richie sat up quickly, causing the hammock to swing dangerously.

“What is it, Eds?”

Eddie rolled his eyes but didn’t comment on the nickname. “It feels like everyone’s leaving, Rich…”

Richie got off the hammock and went to kneel in front of Eddie. “I’m still here. I’ll always be,” he vowed, looking up at Eddie and willing him to believe him.

Eddie looked at him for a long time, so long that Richie started to squirm and was sure his face was getting redder and redder. 

“Promise? Do you promise, Richie?” He demanded in the end.

Richie put a hand on Eddie’s cast, right over the V his friend drew to change the word Loser in Lover. “Yes,” he simply said, and for once he didn’t even try to offer a joke.

Eddie’s hand covered Richie’s. “I promise, too, Richie.”

They smiled at one another, and soon after they climbed out and left for home. That day taught Richie a new, important lesson: There are times when, in order to give the ones you love what they need, you need to be serious.

*

Richie was sixteen years old when his dad told him they were moving. He would be allowed to finish his school year, and then they would leave Derry forever.

Richie kept that knowledge to himself as long as he could, and tried to soak up every single bit of attention and love from his friends. In the months that preceded his departure, Richie was beeped so much it almost seemed like his friends weren’t able to say anything else to him; yet, they laughed, bumped against him or lightly punched his shoulder, pretended to drown him in the dirty water of the quarry, and just generally _looked_ at him, and so Richie didn’t stop. He talked, threw out stupid jokes, invented new nicknames, and made an ass out of himself even more because he knew that soon he wouldn’t be able to bask in his friends’ regard anymore.

Every single night, or as often as he could get away with it, he climbed the tree outside of Eddie’s room and slipped in. Eddie grumbled and protested, and then inevitably lifted the covers and let Richie curl in on himself on the bed. Richie lay awake as long as he could, studying Eddie’s face, trying to commit every freckle to memory, and wishing he was strong enough to just tell Eddie how he felt. He knew his friend would never return his feelings, but Richie loved him with his whole heart and he couldn’t help but hope to one day be able to say it out loud, and not just carve it on the Kissing Bridge.

A month before the Toziers were supposed to move, Richie finally told Stan about it. His friend berated him for keeping it a secret for so long but in the end he had to concede that, by doing so, Richie made sure the Losers wouldn’t have to live for a long time with the thought of another member of their little club leaving them behind. 

“You need to tell the others,” Stan said, seriously.

Richie nodded. “I know, I’m… I’ll do it, but… Not before the weekend. Sleepover at Bill’s remember? We’ll already be missing Ben! Fucker never even bothered to let us know how he likes it in San Francisco… I don’t want to kill the mood even more, you know? Eddie convinced his mom to let him come, and Mike’s grandfather agreed to let him stay on Sunday, too! I’ll tell them but… Later, okay? Will you keep it to yourself for now, Stan?”

Stan sighed. “Yeah. But, Richie? You didn’t even tell Eddie?”

Looking down, Richie shrugged. 

“You didn’t tell Eddie _anything_?”

Richie’s head shot up. “What do you mean by that? Why’d you say it that way?”

“Richie…” Stan cocked his head. “What do you think I mean?”

“I don’t know! I don’t! D’you mean about me fucking his mom last night? Or having to break up with her now that I’m moving? It’ll be so hard on her! It’ll break her heart!”

Richie didn’t seem to be able to stop talking so Stan moved towards him and grabbed him into a hug.

“Stan…” Richie mumbled in his shoulder. “Please…”

“It’s okay, Richie. You know it is. It’s all okay.”

Uncaring of his glasses, Richie pressed his face in Stan’s shoulder and cried. “I love him…” He whimpered, voice so soft it would have been impossible for Stan to hear him had he not been so close. “I know it’s wrong, but I…”

Abruptly, Stan took a step back and placed his hands on Richie’s shoulders. “It’s _not_ wrong! _You’re_ not wrong! Don’t ever let me hear you say that, okay? You’re not wrong, and your feelings are valid. I don’t know if they’re returned… I have an idea but… No, I don’t know. Only Eddie does. But Richie, even if they’re not, Eddie will still love you anyway, and it won’t make you wrong. Okay?”

Richie nodded and fiddled with his glasses for a while so he wouldn’t have to look at Stan. His friend waited patiently for him to get his bearings, and Richie saw him smile softly when he finally met Stan’s eyes.

“So you think I should tell him? Tell Eddie?”

“I do. You’re leaving soon, Richie, and do you really want to do it without even trying? Without knowing what could happen if you finally said it?”

Richie knew he didn’t. His feelings wouldn’t be returned, of that Richie was sure, but he knew he _had_ to say it. And maybe this would be the perfect time, what with him leaving town in a month. If things went very badly, at least Richie wouldn’t have to suffer Eddie’s hate for too long.

He biked to Bill’s that Saturday, anticipation and fear for what he was about to reveal making his stomach hurt, and he arrived at the same time as Stan. Mike’s bike was already parked on the porch so Richie and Stan left theirs there, too, and moved towards the door.

“Richie!”

Eddie’s voice brought a smile to Richie’s face and he turned.

“Hey, Spaghetti Man!”

“Shut up, Richie! Hey, Stan,” Eddie stopped in front of them but didn’t get off his bike. “I need you guys to do me a favor.”

“Sure, Eddie,” Stan smiled. “What is it?”

“Mary Callum came to my locker yesterday and told me that Shelly Patterson wanted me to ask her out… and I did! I saw her outside school and did it! I asked her out and we’re going on a date tonight. Shelly’s mom will give her the car and we’ll have dinner and then…” Eddie trailed off, blushing.

“Uhm…” Stan kept sending sideways glances at Richie, but he felt frozen and had no idea what to say. “That’s… Yeah, that’s great Eddie.”

“Right?” Eddie beamed. “So I still told my mom I’m hanging out at Bill’s tonight and I need you to cover for me if she calls to check, ok? I might still come back here later tonight or not, you know, in case…”

Richie’s throat felt so dry all of a sudden that it was making it hard to swallow, and he had to let out a small cough to try and clear it. Eddie turned to look at him.

“I’m finally going to…” Eddie lowered his voice and leaned towards Richie before uttering the last part, “get laid, Richie! Like you always told me I should do! Aren’t you happy for me? Aren’t you proud?”

Richie’s face muscles approximated a grin – or so he hoped – and he nodded. “Y-Yeah, Eds. Go you.”

Eddie cocked his head in thought. “You okay?”

“Fine, my good fellow!” Richie’s British Guy said. “Peep peep and tally ho! Best not to keep a lady waiting for you. And remember,” Richie affected a serious expression and looked at Eddie, “Keep it covered! I’d give you one of my rubbers but, Eddie my friend, I’m afraid they’d be too big for you.”

“Beep beep, asshole!” Eddie blushed, giving Richie the finger. “Okay, I’m going now. Thanks guys! See you later.”

Richie and Stan watched as Eddie biked away and, as soon as he was out of sight, Richie’s chin dropped to his chest. He could feel big, fat tears rolling out from under his glasses and down his cheeks, and he closed his fists in order to rein them in. His heart felt like it was missing a piece and Richie was afraid that he would never get it back.

“Rich…” Stan put his hand on Richie’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

“Don’t,” he pleaded, before drying his face, putting on a fake smile, and ringing the bell of Bill’s house.

There are times when you can try all you want and yet it won’t be enough. _You_ will never be enough. As usual, Richie had to learn such a lesson the hard way.

*

Richie was forty years old and sitting on a chair beside Eddie’s hospital bed. Visiting hours were almost over and Richie was already dreading having to leave. 

Ever since Eddie woke up a couple of days before, missing a spleen and a good chunk of his side, Richie had been glued to his bedside as much as he was allowed, and absolutely refused to leave the hospital, even when he was forced to stay outside the room.

Eddie died, Richie saw it happen over and over again while he was trapped in the Deadlights. Eddie died and it was Richie’s fault. It didn’t matter that he’d been able to move Eddie over slightly so that Pennywise’s claw pierced his left side instead of running through the middle of his chest, it was still Richie’s fault. He should have been more careful, he should have thought before he acted… He should have been quicker and moved Eddie effectively out of the line of fire. He hadn’t, and Eddie still almost died.

“Where’s everyone?” 

Eddie’s voice startled Richie out of his thoughts. “Hey, Eds. You fell asleep and they all thought it was better to let you rest.”

“But you stayed.”

“Have you met me? Would I ever miss the chance to annoy the hell out of you? Leaving you alone to _rest_? Me??” Richie put a hand on his chest and affected a shocked expression.

Eddie snorted. “Don’t make me laugh, you dick. It hurts.”

Sobering up instantly, Richie looked down. “Sorry…”

“Hey, no… Come on. Come here,” Eddie moved his hand slightly, beckoning Richie closer.

Richie leaned forward and took Eddie’s hand in his. “You can’t get enough of me, can you? Dude, if you want some sweet lovin’ you just have to ask!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “As if. Sweet loving? From you? Yeah, right.”

“Well, I usually reserve that for your mom, Eduardo, but given your situation I could make an exception…”

“Let go of my hand so I can hit you,” Eddie glared, and Richie laughed out loud.

“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay…” Richie said, after he calmed down. “I was… You were… It sucked, man.”

Eddie nodded. “That it did,” he said, and then his face split in a huge yawn. “I fucking hate this. I’m always so tired…”

“You are an old man,” Richie joked, laughing softly when Eddie stuck out his tongue at him. “Just sleep, dude. There’s nothing else you have to do now.”

“I don’t wanna sleep, yet.”

“Yeah? Well, do you think you could stay awake a bit more, then? I would like to… Yeah, there’s something I want to tell you, Eds.” 

Eddie’s brown, tired eyes fixed on Richie and he nodded. “I’m awake.”

Richie smiled. “Yeah, you look it. Maybe this should wait…”

When Richie tried to sit back and let go of Eddie’s hand, Eddie tightened his own hold and stopped him. 

“Say it, Rich. I want to hear it.”

Eyes closed, Richie sighed. “I never fucked your mom…”

“Richie, for fuck’s sake! If you’re keeping me awake just to make another stupid mom joke, I will literally kill you!”

“I’m not _keeping_ you awake! You said you wanted me to speak!”

“Because I thought you had something to say!”

“I do!”

“Well then fucking say it!”

“I’m gay! Okay? I never fucked your mother because I’m a flaming homosexual!” Richie yelled. He could feel his own eyes widen and he cursed himself for ruining everything. He’d let his and Eddie’s stupid banter get to him this time and, instead of calmly revealing what Richie thought of as his darkest secret – his _dirty little secret_ some would say… or sing-song – he shouted the words in his best friend’s face. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie, I…”

“Richie. Shut up,” Eddie used the hold he maintained on Richie’s hand to draw him closer to himself. “Thank you for telling me, you fucker.”

Overwhelmed with relief and filled to the brim with a plethora of contrasting emotions, Richie bent his head and placed his forehead on his and Eddie’s joined hands. “Eddie…” he whimpered, trying and failing to keep the tears in.

Eddie let go of Richie’s hand, wriggled free, then placed his own hand on Richie’s head and started gently caressing his hair. “Stop crying, you idiot. You’re okay. We’re okay. We’re so okay, Rich…”

Richie shivered at the gentle caress and decided to just enjoy it for a moment. They stayed like that for a while, and only when Richie felt strong enough to meet Eddie’s eyes, he finally lifted his head. Eddie’s hand tightened a bit in his hair, but then slowly slid back on the bed.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm…” Eddie’s eyes were closed and Richie knew his friend was about to slip back into unconsciousness, but he couldn’t lose this chance. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to muster up enough courage again, and he wanted to tell Eddie everything. 

He wanted to finally say the words out loud and confess his feelings to his friend.

“There’s something else I want to tell you,” Richie started, voice trembling slightly. “Eds, I… Well, I mean, maybe you already guessed but… I wanted to say that I… Yes, I…”

“Don’t,” Eddie said. 

“What?”

“Don’t, Richie, okay?” Eddie moved his hand slightly in what Richie thought was a dismissive gesture. “Just don’t. No need. Messy… Still too messy. You understand, right?”

When Richie was 8 years old, his grandmother gave him a wooden spinning top for Christmas. It was never one of Richie’s favorite toys, and he only played with it for a while before forgetting about it. One day he even stepped on it while running out the door, and his carelessness made it so that a small piece of the top’s axis got damaged and, from that moment on, the top never again spun properly. It was always a stilted, slightly off-center spin that ended way too soon, and the top also tilted dangerously to the left. It wasn’t broken per se, it still did what it was supposed to do, but it was forever changed, forever damaged, never able to work as it once did.

Eddie’s words stepped on Richie’s heart like he’d done to the spinning top and forever tilted it off its axis. 

Of course, Richie understood. Instead of letting Richie down gently, or risking making things awkward between them and letting Richie’s feelings hang over their friendship forever, Eddie simply stopped his confession. If he never spoke of them, Eddie could pretend that Richie’s feelings didn’t exist and they could live on as best friends forever.

Eddie was married, he was straight, and he didn’t return Richie’s feelings; so, instead of rejecting them and risking changing things between them, Eddie chose to ignore them. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, right? And yes, it still hurt Richie but… Didn’t he deserve it? Didn’t Richie deserve to suffer for trying to be selfish and putting his best friend in a terrible position? While he was still lying in hospital? How did he ever think that would be a good idea? Of course, Eddie was right. Don’t speak of it, don’t think about it. Don’t feel it. Just don’t.

Let this be Richie’s lesson: Your feelings are useless and no one wants to hear about them. Stan did once, yes, but he was dead now and had no stake in the game anymore.

“I understand,” Richie finally replied, and watched Eddie smile softly. He watched him relax back and fall quickly asleep, and only then he rose off the chair and left the room.

Two days later Eddie’s wife arrived at the hospital and, in a whirlwind, took over her husband’s care; and so Richie took his own tilted heart and went back to LA.

*

Richie was forty-one years old and someone was banging on his door at three in the morning.

“There better be a fucking fire or I swear to the holy Turtle God…” Richie’s angry speech halted when he opened the door and saw a very pissed-off looking Eddie staring up at him. “Uh… Eds?”

“What the fuck is a Turtle God, Richie?” Eddie yelled, pointing at Richie, before he pushed him out of the way and entered Richie’s house.

“Wait, what?” Richie exaggerated a double-take, pretended to be looking around both inside and outside the house, then slowly closed the door. “Am I dreaming? Is this a weird dream, oh mighty Turtle God?”

“You’re not dreaming, dickhead. And can you stop talking about turtles?”

Richie scratched the back of his own head. “It’s three in the morning, a tiny, angry hobbit just woke me up and forced me out of bed, and now I can’t even worship the sort of god I choose? Cold, Eds. Oppressing.”

Eddie’s hands chopped the air in a way that never failed to make Richie smile. “Whatever, asshole. I don’t have time to kick your ass for calling me a hobbit, and I’m _not_ tiny, dickwad! Worship whatever the fuck you want, see if I care. Now, let’s sit because I need to talk to you.”

“Of course, mah Lord. Whatevah you say, mah Lord. I live but to please you, mah Lord,” Richie affected his _Downton Abbey_ Voice. He bowed, gesturing towards the sofa and inviting Eddie to sit. “You comfortable, Sir? I’m afraid both footmen are asleep now, and the under-butler took his leave early tonight, but I can still go wake up Cook and let her know his Lordship needs his late, _late_ night’s tea, if it pleases you.”

Eddie sat, but his glare did not soften. “Thought I just woke you up. How come you and your Voices are already this annoying?”

“Talent,” Richie grinned.

Eddie nodded, finally smiling. “Sit down, asshole. I’m not getting a crick in my neck to look up at you, you enormous idiot.”

“Jealousy is unbecoming, Spagheds,” Richie said, tongue-in-cheek, but he sat down on the armchair in front of the sofa. He answered Eddie’s dark glare with a beaming smile. “What did you want to talk about so urgently that you had to interrupt my much, much needed beauty sleep?”

“What beauty?” Eddie said, softening the insult with a tiny smile. 

“Oh, the pain! Oh, the wound! How will I ever recover?”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath then put a hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out what Richie thought was the clipping of an article. “What’s this?”

“A piece of paper?”

Eddie sighed, leaning forward and motioning for Richie to take what he could now see was, in fact, the picture from an article. He took it and blanched when he realized what he was holding.

“I don’t understand.”

“Who’s Mark, Richie?” Eddie asked, glaring a bit.

Crushing in his hand the picture captioned with _“Richie Tozier getting cozy with his new beau, Mark Sheffield”_ , Richie glared back.

Who was Mark? No one, that’s who. Just a guy Richie went on a couple of dates with and whose dick he’d sucked once. Mark was a means to an end, and the end was to get rid of his stupid, unrequited feelings for Eddie.

“What’s it to you?” Richie spat. “Why would you jump on a plane and get here late at night to ask me that? What the fuck, Eddie?”

“What’s it to me? What’s it to _me_ , Richie?? Are you fucking kidding me right now? You said you understood! You said it!” 

Eddie looked really angry and betrayed, but what right did he have to feel like that? Why was he doing this to Richie now that he finally decided to try and move on? His heart would never be properly mended, but that didn’t mean Richie had to be alone! Beverly said so herself, countless times, so why did Eddie have to do this the second Richie decided to listen to her and put himself out there?

Richie shot up and glared down at Eddie. “I did understand. I fucking understood everything perfectly, Eddie.”

“Then what’s _that_?” Eddie pointed at Richie’s tightly closed fist that held the crumpled piece of paper. “What are you doing with that guy?”

“Why do you care? You made yourself perfectly clear. I _understood_ what you said and what you didn’t. So who the fuck gives you the right to come here and yell at me for moving on with my life? What? Did you want me to be in pain forever? Did it make you feel better to know that you stayed in a loveless marriage but at least you weren’t as miserable as poor, stupid Richie? Is that what you wanted, Eddie?”

Richie threw away the balled up paper and turned his back to Eddie’s shocked expression. 

“Richie…”

The pain in Eddie’s voice hit Richie hard, and he bowed his head. Shoulders hunched, Richie spoke without turning. “Eds, it’s late. I’m tired. Let’s leave it at that, okay? I don’t know if you have a hotel booked, but if you don’t… you can stay here. Sofa’s comfortable and I…”

“Richie, stop.”

Eddie’s voice was really close and soon Richie could feel his hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie, please… Don’t, okay? It’s like you said, back at the hospital. Don’t.”

“I didn’t… That wasn’t… Holy shit! I thought you understood!”

Richie whirled around, angry and pained, but whatever he meant to say died in his throat when he met Eddie’s devastated face. 

“Why are you… You look… What’s wrong, Eds?” 

“Everything! Everything’s fucking wrong, Richie, because I thought we were on the same page and instead I don’t even think we had the same book! Holy shit, Richie…” Eddie trailed off and hung his head.

“I’m… Sorry?” 

Eddie’s eyes shot back up and met his. “Why are _you_ apologizing?”

Richie shrugged. “I must have fucked up. I mean, I did, right? That’s what usually happens…”

Eddie’s eyes opened wide and he looked horrified. “No! No, fuck Richie, no! Is that what you think?”

Richie simply looked at Eddie without replying. He felt on shaky ground and wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. On the one hand, why would Eddie fly in from New York just to talk about the chance of Richie having a boyfriend? He didn’t want to know about Richie’s feelings, or that was the impression he’d given, so why would he care that Richie might move his attention elsewhere? 

On the other hand, though, what was that Eddie thought Richie understood and was now surprised (and pained?) to find out he hadn’t? What else could have Eddie meant when he told Richie _don’t_?

Shivering a bit, Richie hugged himself and looked away.

“Richie, please… Can we sit? Can I talk to you? You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise you. Actually, I think I’m the one who… I didn’t…” Eddie trailed off, and Richie finally looked back at him.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s sit,” Richie offered and was surprised when, instead of simply moving back towards the sofa, Eddie took Richie’s wrist and led him there.

When they sat, Eddie released his wrist and took Richie’s hand in his. “At the hospital, that day, and even before… Fuck, Rich, I was always so happy to open my eyes and have your face be the first thing I saw.”

“This face?” Richie pointed at himself with his free hand. 

Eddie smiled. “That’s the one. You… With dark circles under your eyes, a stubble that was quickly becoming a beard, and with your cracked glasses that you’d been too stupid not to get fixed immediately. Always with a smile on your lips and gentle teasing in your voice. It kept me wanting to wake up every time because I knew I’d see you. When you left, I… Uhm… Well…”

“Sorry…” Richie whispered.

"Stop saying that! Nothing to be sorry for. You had a life to come back to and anyway… You didn’t _really_ leave. You kept texting me, always answered when I called, and I know you bribed the nurses to keep you informed of my progress. I just missed your big, dumb face, that’s all,” Eddie shrugged, still smiling.

Richie’s stomach was in knots. Eddie’s smiles and his words were both filling him with pleasure and throwing him even deeper into confusion. Where was Eddie going with this?

“Eds, I don’t understand. I don’t…”

“Yeah, clearly,” Eddie let out a small laugh and shook his head. “I was barely able to keep my eyes open for more than ten minutes back then. I was still heavily drugged and feeling like I wasn’t even on steady ground,” Eddie was, obviously, very carefully avoiding using the word ‘floating’, and it made Richie crack a smile. “Yet, for some reason I believed the few words I’d said to you that day had been enough to explain everything perfectly. Would you believe me if I told you I don’t really remember all I said? I know I told you things were messy and I thought we needed to wait, but other than that…” Eddie shrugged.

“Wait? You didn’t say that. You said, and yes I am quoting here because apparently I’m the one who can’t forget a single thing, _Don’t. No need. Messy… Still too messy. You understand, right?_ ” Richie recited, pained. “You just said don’t, Eddie. And I… I thought you knew what I was about to tell you and didn’t… That you didn’t want to hear it. That’s what I understood.”

Eddie gaped comically and, even through the pain it caused him to relieve that moment and recall Eddie’s words, Richie chuckled.

“That’s not… It’s not… That wasn’t… What the fuck, Richie, did I really only say that?”

“‘Fraid so,” Richie shrugged.

Eddie covered his eyes with his free hand and tightened his hold on Richie with the other. “Fucking shit. All this time I thought… I was so sure… Fuck!” Eddie looked back at Richie, expression serious and determined. “Right. I’ll just have to say it all again then, and this time I’ll be sure to _make_ you understand what I mean. You said you were gay that day, and you’re right, I did guess what else you wanted to say. Getting my memories back, after Mike’s call, and being able to look at our past with adult eyes… Richie, it was so obvious…”

“Me? Was I so obvious?” Richie asked, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Guess I must have been…”

“Shut up, Richie. We both were! We both fucking were, okay? I looked back at us and saw what my younger self refused to. He was scared, and maybe I still am a bit, but you told me I can be brave and I believe you. So yes, when you said there was something else you wanted me to know… I understood what you were about to say. But that wasn’t the right time for me to hear it… I didn’t want you to say it then because everything was still fucked up. I’d just survived getting impaled by a freaking spider clown, I had months of physical therapy in front of me, and I had yet to ask for a divorce. There was no way I would let _that_ be the moment I finally heard the words out of your mouth!” Eddie looked at him, pleading and willing Richie to understand.

Richie’s heart gave a small lurch and he could swear he felt it re-align somehow. Or trying to, at least. He was so terrified to find himself hoping, to believe his heart could mend, only to be rejected again and be broken for good this time, that he dropped Eddie’s hand and made to get up. Eddie stopped him, grabbing his shirt first then taking his face in both hands, and Richie was forced to look at him. He could feel tears forming in his eyes and he blinked them away.

“Eds…”

“I love you, Richie. If that’s what you wanted to say back then, if I understood you correctly, then you should know that I feel the same. I love you. Probably always have. So is that… Was that what… If it is, I… I’m ready to hear it now. My divorce is about to get finalized, I have an understanding with my firm, and I’m all healed. Nothing stands between us anymore…”

Richie lost his battle with the tears and they rolled down his cheeks. Eddie gently dried them away with his thumbs and then kept caressing Richie’s face.

“I’m scared…” Richie whispered.

“You’re braver than you think.”

“That’s you, Eds,” he said, making Eddie smile. “I… If I say it… I need you to know that it will not be possible for me to recover if it doesn’t go well. You said that you… Feel, like that, for me… But I don’t know if… If you don’t mean it, not in the same way I do, if you care for me as a friend and want me by your side because of that, it’s… It’s okay, Eds, I’ll give you that. I will, always. But don’t… You don’t need to say those words…”

“You’re my best friend, Richie. You’ve always been and you always will be. But I want more. I want to kiss you, and touch you. Make love to you. I want to wake up and have your face be the first thing I see. Always. Every single day. I want to come back from work in the evening, order take-out, and fight for the remote. I want to cuddle you, keep you close, be greedy with your attention and your presence. I want to go for a walk with you and hold your hand so everyone will know you belong to me. I love you, Richie,” Eddie used his hold on Richie’s face to pull him forward so that their foreheads touched. 

Richie breathed deeply, ashamed of the little whine he could hear coming out of his throat but unable to stop it, and closed his eyes.

“I love you, Eddie,” he whispered, shaking like a leaf.

“Me too. I love you so much, Richie,” Eddie whispered back.

Richie’s heart jumped, beat furiously for a brief while, then became steady again: Mended, intact, healed.

Richie cried, lowering his head on Eddie’s shoulder and holding him tight. Eddie’s hands abandoned his face so that Eddie could hold Richie properly, and he started murmuring sweet nonsense in his ear.

“Is this… Eds, am I dreaming?” Richie murmured. “Is this really happening?”

“Yes, Richie. Yes,” Eddie pushed Richie away so he could look him in the eye. “I can prove it to you. _Let me_ prove it to you. Okay? Will you let me do that, Rich?”

Richie nodded.

*

Richie was forty-one years old and he was lying completely naked on his bed. His eyes were round and wide behind his glasses, and his cheeks were heated. Equally naked, and looking way hotter than he had in Richie’s fantasies, Eddie sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at him.

“I wish you’d let me keep my shirt on,” Richie said, trying for levity and missing it by a mile. “No need for you to look at my love-handles and beer belly.”

Eddie cocked his head and bit his own lip. “Is that really what you think?”

“Look, Eds…” Richie started to sit up, wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself and escape the scrutiny. Eddie didn’t allow him to.

“You’re so fucking hot I feel like I could burst just looking at you,” Eddie said, punching the breath out of Richie’s lungs.

“Uh?” Richie’s eloquence was at its peak.

“You said you would let me show you how much I want you. How much I _love_ you. That I could prove it to you. Let me, okay?”

Still stunned, Richie nodded.

Eddie made sure Richie lay once more on his back, then leaned down and gently kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and then, briefly, his lips.

“I love your face. Your eyes, always sparkling with some sort of amusement – often at my expenses,” Eddie’s small joke made Richie snort. “Your glasses, that give away so much of your emotions. Do you know you fiddle with them a lot when you’re nervous? And that you push them up to the bridge of your nose when you’re about to say something particularly outrageous? I do. I notice everything about you, Rich. I always have.”

“Eddie… I…”

Eddie placed one finger on Richie’s lips. “Hush,” he gently ordered, and smiled when Richie kissed his finger. “I love everything about your face, Richie. Your lips, your nose, your chin, your cheekbones. And fuck, that jawline. You could cut glass with it and I want to suck hickeys all over it… and then down to your throat, your neck, your collarbone.” 

Richie’s breathing became labored and he could feel his cock hardening with every one of Eddie’s words. Eddie took his finger away from Richie’s lips and used it to trace around his jaw and down his throat, but still Richie kept silent. Some part of him longed to fill the silence, to speak and get himself out of the whirlwind of emotions Eddie had thrown him into; but the biggest part of him wanted to hear more. He wanted Eddie to go on and keep telling Richie what he liked about him, what he wanted from him.

“I would have killed you if you’d kept your shirt on, Rich!” Eddie said, grinning. “Fuck you for wanting to cover up these shoulders. They’re so big, and strong, and perfectly shaped.” Eddie’s hands gripped his shoulders for a moment, then made their way down Richie’s arms. “And these arms… Shit, Rich, you really don’t know? I love them, and your fucking biceps, you asshole. I love your chest, I love your nipples. I even love how hairy you are. You said you have love-handles and a belly but do you know what I see?”

Richie shook his head, lips parted and breath coming out in hot puffs.

“I see a man who can let himself indulge in simple pleasures without stressing over everything. You do take care of your body, yes, but you still don’t deprive yourself of anything... You’re not like me… I…” Eddie shook his head, cutting off that self-deprecating train of thought. 

“Your body is perfect the way it is, Rich, and it makes me so hot,” Eddie gestured to his own rapidly hardening cock, and smiled when Richie’s hungry eyes locked in on it. “I love that you’re so firm and shapely here,” Eddie said, caressing Richie’s shoulders again. “While at the same time being soft around here.”

Eddie’s hand lovingly caressed his belly, and Richie’s whole body shuddered.

“Eds… I want… I need…”

Richie failed to articulate his needs properly but apparently Eddie was able to read his mind because he nodded and, soon, he was lying beside Richie and had one of his legs between Richie’s parted ones.

“Guess we’ll leave all the reasons why I love your legs – and your thighs! Fuck, Richie, your thighs… - for another day, huh?” Eddie smiled. “Is this what you wanted me to do?” He asked, taking Richie’s hardness in his hand.

Richie nodded once, then threw back his head letting out a low groan. “Yes, fuck… Eddie!”

Eddie’s hand slowly started to move up and down Richie’s cock. “There’s still something else I want to say to you, but I guess I can do this at the same time.”

“Cocky little shit,” Richie breathed out. He let out a choked sound when Eddie swiped his thumb around the head of his dick in retaliation. “Eds…”

“I love doing this,” Eddie said. “I love laying here with you, able to touch you as much and as long as I want. Knowing you’ll let me, that you _want_ me to. Do you, Richie?”

“Yes. Fuck, do that again! Yes, I want it. I always have, Eddie. Couldn’t stop… Tried. Couldn’t… ah… stop.”

“Good. Don’t ever try again, okay? Now that I have this, now that _we_ have this… I’m never going to give you up.”

Richie moaned, screwing his eyes shut and abandoning himself to the delicious pressure of Eddie’s hand on his dick. Eddie alternated long, slow strokes up and down his cock with twisting movements of his hand on the head, and Richie could do nothing more than lay there and let himself feel all the pleasure Eddie was giving him. 

When Richie felt Eddie’s hips thrust against his own body, he opened his legs a bit more so that his thigh could offer Eddie’s cock all the friction it needed. Richie had sort of hoped that he would get to suck Eddie off, but at the same time he knew that the orgasm he could feel building inside himself, the very first Richie would experience with Eddie, was bound to leave him pretty useless for a while; Eddie rubbing one off against him was probably better for both of them. This time at least.

Eddie started talking again, but now his voice was lower and a bit out of breath. It made Richie shiver and he could feel his cock harden even more in Eddie’s grip.

“There’s so many things I want to do with you, Rich. I want to fuck you. Want to feel your thighs clench around my hips, look you in the eyes while you come. I want to hear you scream my name when you do… Will you?”

“Shit, fuck… Eddie, yes! Anyth… Uh! Anything. Give you… anything.”

“Me too. I want to… Holy shit, Richie…” Eddie’s hips stuttered, and Richie felt the wetness of Eddie’s pre-come dampen the hair on his thigh. “Give you anything, too. I want to ride you, get on all fours for you, come back home at night and sit on your lap so you can kiss the fatigue away.”

Suddenly, Richie couldn’t stay still anymore; he finally circled Eddie’s body with one arm, placing his hand on his ass and squeezing one of the cheeks, and he took Eddie’s face in his other hand and angled him up so he could kiss him. Richie’s thigh pressed harder against Eddie’s cock and Richie drank in his loud moan.

The kiss broke too soon for Richie’s liking, but it seemed like Eddie had no intention of stopping talking.

“I want to see you come for me. Want to know I’ve been the one to make it happen. I want you to make me come and… oh god, Rich! Want to… to… cover you in hickeys and have you go half naked around the house so I can always see them. I… Richie, I… Fuck! I want… You to pay attention to me, and only me. I want to hold your hand, tell you how amazing you are, make fun of you, yell at your idiotic nicknames, and fight with you. Force you to eat healthy and allow you to take me to a burger place to eat heart-attack inducing food. I want to… Want to…”

Richie came. To his own embarrassment, Eddie’s words brought tears to his eyes so, when his orgasm hit, Richie was actively crying. Still, he obligingly shouted out, or more accurately _sobbed out_ , Eddie’s name and that in turn caused Eddie’s own orgasm to erupt.

They lay there, breathing heavily and, in Richie’s case, whimpering a bit, and then Eddie moved in between Richie’s legs and rested fully on him. He took off his glasses, kissed Richie’s tears away, teased him a bit for them causing Richie to spank his ass – which in turn sent a shiver down Eddie’s spine and awoke something that they might have to explore later – and then allowed Richie to take his mouth once more.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered on Richie’s lips. “Only you. Always you. Say you believe me, please? Say I’m forgiven?”

“Eddie,” Richie’s voice trembled. “I have loved you my entire life. I never thought… Never dreamt… I didn’t think you would ever feel the same way. Not for me. But now… Yes. Yes, I believe you and there’s nothing to forgive. Eddie, I…”

Eddie captured Richie’s lips in a deep kiss. “Enough talk,” he said, then. “Shower now, then sleep. Then I’m going to fuck you, be inside you. You want that?” Richie nodded, feeling his cock valiantly twitch at the mere thought – damn refractory period and old age! “Good, me too. And after that… Uhm… In the morning we have some organizing to do.”

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘organizing’?”

“Yes, I need to have my stuff shipped here because, you know, I live here now, and we’re gonna need to go for groceries because I know you won’t have anything edible in that fridge of yours. Also, I might need to inspect the house and it’s possible we’ll have to relocate to a hotel for a few days while I hire a deep cleaning service. Also…”

Richie started laughing. 

“What?” Eddie glared. “What’s so funny?”

“I am. Been learning hard lessons all my life, you see? And I think I just got taught the best one of all.”

“Oh?” Eddie sat up and pulled Richie up with him. Together, they made their way to the bathroom to shower. “What lesson’s that?”

“Never lose hope, no matter how dire the situation is. But also, if you feel like you did lose hope, then at least make sure you keep listening… Maybe one day you might like what you hear.”

“That’s… Wow, Richie. That’s deep,” Eddie smiled up at him and leaned in to give Richie a tiny peck on his jawline.

“Yep. Oh, and I almost forgot. The lesson also imparted: Allow a garden gnome to take over your life. He’ll come equipped with gloves, hand sanitizers, and more cleaning products than you can count. But hey! At least he’s cute, cute, cute!”

“I’m gonna kill you, Richie!” 

Eddie chased after Richie and they both got to the bathroom breathless with laughter.


End file.
